Sharon Hartley - To Trust a Cop

“Going. For now. I’ll let D.J. tell me what to do. I trust him.” She met his gaze as if daring him to object.

“Fine,” Cody said. “I don’t want to say, ‘See you around,’ exactly, but...”

She crossed her arms. “I won’t promise to stay out of your way.”

“Then I guess I will see you around.”

* * *

“LICENSING BOARD?” Merlene stared at D. J. Cooke behind his cluttered desk. She’d thought her boss looked more tired than usual. Now she knew why. “What do you mean you’ve heard from the licensing board?”

“Something about your client’s husband,” D.J. said with a sigh. “Interference with the police. They’re sending an investigator out next week to interview me.”

“They’re starting an investigation?”

“Routine, I’m sure,” D.J. said.

“Damn that Cody Warren,” Merlene muttered. “I knew he was nothing but trouble.”

“Cody Warren?”

She nodded. “That’s the cop who rousted me off surveillance on the Johnson case.”

“Cody. Doggone it. That’s a name I haven’t heard in a dog’s age.”

In spite of her annoyance, Merlene grinned at D.J.’s wrinkled face. Her boss always resorted to Ozark slang on a trip down memory lane.

“He remembered you, too,” she said. “He said you were a good man. His exact words.” She stared at her lap, organizing her notes from the surveillance. “That’s the only nice thing he said all day. I should have known he’d pull something like this.”

D.J. made a clucking sound. “Little Cody. I’m glad he stuck it out.”

“Well, he’s not little anymore,” she said, remembering the way his white shirt had stretched across a muscular back.

D.J. didn’t seem to hear her. “It sure was rough on him there for a while.”

She raised her gaze. “What was?”

D.J. sighed. “Bad business. His dad was a longtime beat cop and got caught shaking down shop owners for protection money. Cody was a rookie when the scandal broke.”

“He seems to have survived.” So she and Cody had the same rotten luck when it came to their parents.

“I can’t rightly recall what happened to Bill Warren, but Cody became a cop who plays it strictly by the book.” Tapping his glasses against his cheek, D.J. swiveled in his chair and looked out the office window. “He worked in homicide for a while, then asked for assignment to the fraud division.”

Merlene followed his gaze outside to a suburban backyard. Two small brown squirrels chased each other around the gnarled trunk of an avocado tree. Her boss conducted business out of his home now, taking only an occasional case, allowing Merlene to work as many surveillance jobs as she could land.

She watched the squirrels fuss at each other. Probably squirrel husband and wife, she thought. But at least one of them still wanted the other.

D.J. coughed. Not liking the sound, she shifted her gaze back to his face and really didn’t like what she saw. D.J. looked exhausted. No, more than that. He looked sick, his face as pale and white as his hair.

“Hey, are you okay, boss?” she asked softly.

“Fit as a fiddle,” he said with the wave of a thin hand. “Don’t worry about me.” D.J. swiveled back and placed his forearms on the desk. “I’ve handled much worse problems in my career.”

She nodded, thinking he definitely didn’t need the stress of a Division of Licensing inquiry at this stage in his life.

“What should I tell Mrs. Johnson?” she asked.

“You’ve never seen the doctor and the nurse together away from the office?” D.J. asked.

“Never.”

“Call your client. Tell her you’ve got nothing. Let her make the decision.”

Merlene nodded. “Good enough. I’ll even offer to refund some of the retainer.”

“Is money part of the problem in this marriage? From the home address, I thought they were loaded.”

“Could be. I definitely get the feeling the doc keeps her on a tight leash,” Merlene said. “And I remember what it’s like to be divorced, broke and unemployed. Scary. Maybe she’s got nobody to help her. If it weren’t for you, I don’t know where I’d be right now.” D.J. and his wife had been there for her when she hit rock bottom after the divorce.

“You’ll always be fine, Merl. You’ve taken care of yourself since you were knee-high to a grasshopper.”

She smiled at yet another of his country clichés and then shrugged. “I’m also thinking her husband might soon be in jail. That’s my next question. Should I tell her the cops are investigating Dr. Johnson?”

“No. If she calls her husband and tips him off, it could torpedo an important case. My policy is to always cooperate with the police.”

Merlene nodded. “I wonder what he’s done.”

With a thoughtful smile, D.J. leaned back in his chair. “Probably some kind of fraud. Or selling narcotic prescriptions to bogus patients. Maybe he’s become addicted himself. Doctors can be quite creative.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” she said as she stood. “Remember, my ex was one of the great creative healers of all time.”

D.J. chuckled, which turned into a cough as he waved Merlene out. “Good luck on the Harris case tomorrow.”

She turned back. “Thanks. You know how much I hate testifying.”

“Are you ready?”

She sighed, wishing tomorrow and her court appearance were already over. “I’ve typed my report and been over it four times.”

D.J. nodded. “Good. Make sure you can prove chain of custody on the video. Judge Robinson is a stickler for details.”

“You got it. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”

Merlene stole a last look at D.J. as she exited his office and paused in the doorway. A tickle of worry nudged at her thoughts as she watched him struggle to take a breath, an effort which prompted a deep cough.

No wanting him to watch her hovering, she stepped out of his view, but waited in the hallway until his hacking ceased and she knew he was okay.

Moving toward her car, she wondered about D.J.’s health. Of course, he hated it when she fussed over him, but, damn, how could she help worrying? Seemed he was deteriorating a little each day. Well, too bad if he didn’t like her nagging about his meds. She’d keep reminding him anyway.

* * *

WHEN MERLENE’S TIRES crunched gravel in the driveway of her Coconut Grove home, she wished all her problems were as simple as proving the authenticity of her evidence. Her video of a philandering John Harris had never left her possession and certainly hadn’t been tampered with. The pickiest judge in the country would have no basis to exclude her absolute proof of infidelity.

But she was more worried about D.J. Anyone could tell his cough had worsened, and she suspected he hid something from her. He didn’t act worried about the investigation triggered by Detective Warren, but maybe that was a ruse, too. Were they in serious trouble with the licensing board thanks to Warren?

But they hadn’t done anything wrong, so why would they be?

And she dreaded talking to her client. She’d rather keep trustworthy records anytime than talk to a distraught wife about discontinuing surveillance on her jerk of a husband. All of this mess thanks to Cody Warren. The nerve of that man. So he’d really gone after her license.

Her mood lightened as she walked across the shaded front yard, savoring the scent of blooming gardenias. She’d bought this small, eighty-year-old house after her divorce from Peter, the only real home she’d ever had. To her, home meant safety, a refuge, a place to hide. She’d never felt any of those things while living with Peter.

After unlocking the front door, she collapsed onto her green leather couch and tossed her briefcase onto the cushion next to her. No way to hide from calling Mrs. Johnson tonight.